


Empty

by imbeccacile



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbeccacile/pseuds/imbeccacile
Summary: After Martin's death, Jax doesn't know who to turn to. With the team gone, fighting off the people from Earth X, Jax receives a call from Agent Sharpe. He decides he must answer the call, and perhaps seek comfort from one of the last people he would have thought of on his own.





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> um so I'm 98% sure the writers are gonna just not have Rip find out about Martin's death and so I fixed it. Enjoy!

Jax just wished he could escape his own body. His own mind.

It was like his skin was crawling more and more with each breath he took, and he needed to find some way to make it stop. But he couldn't, because he was imagining it and it was _his own body_. Every thought that entered his mind was more intrusive than the last, and it sounded either too quiet or too loud, echoing through the hollow emptiness that consumed him.

Without Martin's bond, he wasn't complete. How could he be his own person, after having the old man in his mind, _connected to his body_ , for three years?

It had been exactly 24 hours. This time yesterday, he had been debating on giving Martin the Firestorm "cure". This time yesterday, he had to make the most difficult decision of his life.

Of course, it felt longer and shorter than one day at the same time. He sort of faded in and out of consciousness once he had made it to his room. He had felt so sick that he couldn't do anything but lay there, tears rolling effortlessly down his face no matter how many times he tried to get it to stop. He had asked Gideon, and when she had replied that two hours had passed, he had dragged himself from bed and took the jumpship to the Steins' house.

He stayed there a long time. It was a few hours later when Sara sent him a message, seemingly just finding that the jumpship was missing. Reluctantly, slowly, he had stepped into the jumpship and set the course back to the Waverider, trying not to think about the time Martin used the jumpship to save Jax's life, or to visit his grandson in the hospital.

He didn't look anyone in the eye as he walked down the hall, trying not to look like he was rushing. He didn't see them, but he could _feel_ the looks of pity and concern on Nate and Zari's faces, and he couldn't bear it. Once safely in his quarters, doors locked behind him, he crawled into bed with no intention of getting up anytime soon.

And so there he lay. Until he rolled over, jerking awake after hearing Martin's last words replay in his head, and as he sat up, he asked Gideon the time.

24 hours.

Jax would have lay there longer, but his body wouldn't let him. Despite himself, he needed to use the bathroom, and though the thought of food made his stomach turn, it still rumbled as if he had an appetite. Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of bed, peeking his head slowly out of the doors.

"The Legends, along with their friends, are currently on Earth X, if you were wondering, Mr. Jackson," Gideon said, and was it just him, or did even Gideon sound piteous?

"Thanks," he sighed. That was why it was so quiet. His throat hurt with the strain of crying and sleep, and if he wouldn't eat anything, the least he needed was water. A pang of guilt washed over him; he should be out there, helping kick Nazi ass. Instead, he was moping around. But he honestly didn't think he could do it. Especially not without Martin.

The pang was replaced by grief, and his pace quickened as he headed for the kitchen. He didn't make it, though, because he was distracted by a distinct ding. Frowning, he stepped into the study, where something was flashing on the screen.

"Agent Sharpe is requesting a call," Gideon explained. Jax blinked. He wasn't Sara. Could he even...?

"Let me talk to her," he found himself replying, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Possibly for the distraction.

"Captain-..." Sharpe appeared on the screen, looking all business as usual, but her serious appearance was quickly replaced with confusion, eyebrows knitting together. Not only because it wasn't Captain Lance at the other end, but because of Jax's ragged appearance. "Mr. Jackson, isn't it? Where is Captain Lance?"

Jax swallowed, taking a moment to respond. "She and the rest of the team are on another earth, fighting off Nazis," he replied quietly, sitting back against the desk just as Sara had many times before.

Sharpe's frown deepened a little, an obvious question on her mind. She seemed to think better of it. "I will call back later, then."

"Wait!" He stood up, realizing why he had answered the call in the first place. There was someone else who deserved to know. Sharpe glanced up, confusion growing by the second. "Please, I...let me talk to Rip." He may have been upset with him in the beginning, after the whole brainwash, then creating a new team and effectively replacing the Legends thing, but Rip deserved to know.

She almost did a double take, look of confusion hardening slightly. "I can't allow that."

"Please," he begged, standing fully now, showing complete vulnerability. "Gra-...Martin? My other half? He's...He's gone. I need t-to talk to Rip." His voice shook, but at the moment, he couldn't care. He had admitted it out loud. His stomach turned unpleasantly.

Sharpe's face contorted into pity, just as he had expected. "I apologize, Mr. Jackson. However, under the current circumstances, I cannot allow Dir-...Er, Mr. Hunter out of his cell. Orders from the new Director."

"You don't have to," he replied frustratedly. What he was frustrated with, he couldn't quite pinpoint. The fact that Nazis from another earth completely shattered his whole life? The fact that Rip was probably wrongly imprisoned? The fact that he had even made the Time Bureau in the first place? "Take me to his cell. I won't be long." He looked determined, though his exhaustion was probably evident.

She considered him for a long moment. He held his breath. Finally, she sighed. A moment later, he heard a whirring behind him, and as he whirled around, he saw Sharpe stepping into the study. "Come with me, Mr. Jackson."

He let out his breath and nodded, jogging over to join her. They stepped through the window, and all of a sudden they were in the Time Bureau's headquarters. She walked fast, and he tried his best to match her pace. "You have to promise you'll make it quick," she said, not looking at him as she spoke. He nodded instead of answering, and after a long while, they reached a long white door similar to the others that they passed. Sharpe pulled out a key card and swiped it, then put in a series of numbers on the keypad beside the door. After a moment, it dinged and blinked green, and the door slid open.

Sharpe led the way down the long hallway of cells. Jax tried not to stare, but he could see the criminals in each cell; each one encased in glass, wearing all white, paying the two of them absolutely no attention. "They can't see you," Sharpe answered the look on Jax's face as he looked into the vacant eyes of one of the inmates, who didn't seem to recognize he was there. "It's one-way glass. They simply see themselves."

After a few moments of walking, they reached the end of the hallway. "Here we are." She looked pained for a brief moment; so brief, Jax was sure he imagined it. He stared into the glass, blinking. 

Rip sat on the bench in his cell, wearing all white like the other inmates. His hair was tousled, and he rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, looking blankly ahead at the wall. He had written words on the wall behind him, but they were too small for Jax to make out.

"Mr. Hunter," Sharpe called quietly, and Rip looked up, making unknowing eye-contact with Jax. A shiver ran down his spine. It had been a long time since he had seen those eyes. The eyes of a man whom he had cared about so much in the past.

"Agent Sharpe," he replied, seemingly surprised. "It's been awhile since you've visited." She grimaced, and this time Jax knew he hadn't imagined it. She really did care about Rip. A newfound respect washed over him as he glanced up at her.

"Yes, I apologize. Though it is not me who's come to visit." Rip frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as he got to his feet slowly. She sighed heavily, pressing a button on the keypad beside the cell. The glass shimmered very slightly, and Rip's confusion dissolved into shock. Sharpe watched him, pressing another button, and the door beside the glass opened. "Remember, Mr. Jackson; not too long."

Jax nodded and stepped into the cell, the door slamming shut behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sharpe still there, waiting, timing. His time really was limited.

"J...Jax," Rip stuttered, staring at him as if he were not sure if he were real. Jax smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey."

"How did you...what are you doing here?" he asked, caution edging his voice. He could sense something was wrong. Jax wasn't sure whether to be overwhelmed or upset at Rip's concern. As much as he had tried to convince himself he wasn't the same Rip, he _was_. Putting others before himself, even when he was stuck in a time prison.

"I don't have much time," he said softly, glancing over at Sharpe, then back at Rip, "I needed to talk to you." Rip raised an eyebrow, and Jax couldn't blame him for being skeptical. He hadn't exactly been very kind to his old captain recently, since he was hurt over the fact that he had left. He sighed, dropping his gaze. "It's Gray. He's...He's gone."

Rip blinked, as if he didn't understand the statement. He blinked again, and it was as if the truth then hit him. Jax looked back up in time to watch Rip stumble backward into the bench, meeting Jax's gaze with grief of his own. Grief so strong it almost startled the younger man.

It took a long time for Rip to find his voice. When he did, he looked down at his lap, clenching his fists. "I am so _sorry_ , Jax. I can't imagine what you must be feeling..." He swallowed, and Jax wondered... "Martin was a great friend. He...died doing something heroic, I presume." Jax simply nodded, and Rip slowly got to his feet again, hesitantly reaching over to place his hand on the younger man's shoulder. Jax didn't shrug it off. "I wish I could have been there to help," he whispered, looking into Jax's eyes, and Jax found himself _believing_ him. His eyes began to well.

"I-I should have been strong enough," he croaked, shaking his head as tears filled his eyes, but refused to fall. "Cisco made a stupid 'cure.' And t-then Gray was shot, and he...a-asked me to give it to him. His injuries were killing both of us. I'm healthy and I take care of my body. Why wasn't I strong enough to get us both through it? Why..." 

"Jax," Rip whispered softly, stepping forward so that there wasn't so much distance between them. He reached up and wiped a tear from Jax's face. "Martin...was an old man. It was his body's doing, not yours. No man of any strength could have prevented a death from multiple gunshot wounds, especially near the organs." His eyes showed nothing but fierce kindness, as if he could project his truth onto Jax. "Martin knew this. He wouldn't blame you. All he ever wanted was for you to get home safely."

Jax would have argued. Had it been anyone else saying these things, he'd snap and tell them _they_ didn't know Martin. _They_ didn't have a psychic bond with him.

But Rip knew. Rip knew because he had been their captain, and he had known these things because Martin had told him so. And when Jax thought about it, out of everyone on the team, Rip had a close connection to Martin. They spent hours together in the lab, working. Drinking coffee. Talking.

And soon Rip's arms were around him and he was crying again, and he wasn't sure when it would stop. But he didn't want to leave the embrace. It was the comfort he didn't think he wanted, and yet here it was, making him feel a little more complete than before.

All too soon, Agent Sharpe was tapping on the glass. Rip slowly pulled away from Jax, giving him a half smile and patting his shoulder. "You mustn't blame yourself," he reminded, and Jax took a shaky breath. 

"I'm gonna get you outta here."

Rip chuckled, sitting down on the bench again. "Concentrate on your grief first, Mr. Jackson. Do what you think is necessary for your healing." Jax blinked. What did that mean?

The door opened behind him, and Jax slowly backed out, thinking over everything Rip had told him. It had just been nice to hear his voice again, let alone advice. Once he left, the door slammed shut, locked, and the glass shimmered. Rip was now oblivious to the two still standing outside of his door.

 

A week later, Jax was still thinking about what Rip had said to him. He hadn't told anyone on the team about what he had done while they were on Earth X, as requested by Sharpe, and no one asked. After saving young Martin from the barbarians, the last thing Rip had said to him made sense.

_Do what you think is necessary for your healing._

He would take some time off of the Waverider. Try to live a normal life, at least for a little while. Spend time with family. Work through grief.

And soon, when he would return, he would keep his promise. Somehow, he'd find a way to get Rip out of jail.

For now, as he sat outside in the sun with his mother, he thought about Rip. He thanked him, staring at the blue sky, and felt a breeze blow by. It was comforting.

Maybe Martin was still with him, after all.


End file.
